She was afraid first, and then she forced up what she’d just eaten.
Sheknewshe’d been poisoned? Before the toxin even took effect?
Why would the princess of lucent society be anticipating her own murder? How would she have recognized what was happening so quickly?
I’m more familiar with lethal chemicals than anyone else in this school should be, and I don’t know if I’d have realized their effects on me before they really took hold.
Her reaction means something. Something I don’t understand, so it’s going to niggle at me that much more persistently.
Only Elodie can give me answers.
Ten hours later, I’m standing outside Julien Devine’s residence, clutching the handle of my briefcase and wondering if I’m making a vast miscalculation.
Three stories of aged but painstakingly maintained brick loom over me, every artful detail from the sculpted railing to the window-frame flourishes screaming how much the place must have cost. The goddamned garage off to the side of the building is probably worth more than the entire house I rent half of. Any one of the cars parked in it would cost my annual salary.
The very air, laced with a refreshingly cool breeze and the spruce scent of the manicured tree next to the front walk, says I don’t belong here. The faintly lilting hum of the place’s cultivated ephemera feels far too elegant for a Beacon Prep upstart.
Even in my designer-label suit with my own careful tailoring, I’m a shabby fraud in the face of this graceful refinement.
Who am I to ask anything at all of a Devine?
I’m not sure which is going to be more of a problem: my insecurity or the fury it stirs inside me.
I grit my teeth for a few seconds, and then I relax through sheer force of will and stalk up to the front door.
My welcome doesn’t boost my confidence. Some member of household staff ushers me into a grand hallway before a gleaming hardwood staircase. The scents of the finest wood polish and something elegantly floral fill my lungs.
Why the fuck should I care what’s happening to Elodie when she’s got the whole world at her fingertips? When would any of these people ever stoop to lending me or my brother a hand?
Then Julien Devine steps into the hallway, and I shove all my resentment down as far as it’ll go.
I believe the man’s got nearly two decades on my twenty-eight years, but I have to admit he wears them well. Even with worry etched across his face and his eyes slightly bloodshot, it’s not surprising most of the female staff at the academy giggle and gossip when he makes an appearance.
He rakes a hand through his unusually mussed hair and blinks at me as if it’s taking a moment for him to sort through his thoughts. It doesn’t take any divination for me to guess that he hasn’t slept much the past few days.
His roughened voice adds to that suspicion. “You’re from Luminary Academy… Professor Raith?”
I nod. “I’ve collected the past few days’ notes and classwork from all of Miss Devine’s instructors. She can review them over the weekend if she’s up to it—or they can wait for whenever she is.”
Something in the man’s expression hardens. A spear of ice stabs through my gut, as if there’s any chance he could know how I’ve handled his daughter in the past just by looking at me.
His next words make it clear his animosity is spread much broader than that. “They say they’re the best school of magic in the world, and they couldn’t even ensure…”
He trails off with a shake of his head. “Fine. You can give the notes to me.”
I adjust my briefcase in front of me, weighing my response carefully. “If she’s well enough now, it would be better if I could go over them with her myself so I can add context based on talking with my colleagues. I’ll keep our conversation succinct, of course. It may be easier for her to hear the explanations directly rather than sorting through the notes on her own?”
Julien frowns at me, but hedoesn’thave a reason to think my intentions toward Elodie are anything other than professional. And no prestigious lucent family wants their offspring falling behind at school if they can help it.
He hesitates for a moment and then motions for me to stay where I am. “I’ll see if she feels steady enough.”
I watch him climb the stairs, grappling with a twinge of a very different sort of jealousy.
It must be nice having a parent who cares about what you can handle. I wouldn’t know.
Then again, I suppose my parents weren’t even good at keeping track of whattheycould handle.
Another figure appears at the end of the hall: a woman not much younger than Julien, with a froth of unruly brown hair around her pale face. I have a vague memory of Elodie’s aunt joining her for some student-guardian function that her father couldn’t make it to, though that was years ago and I can’t recall her name.
